Standing On The Edge
by Golden-Iris158
Summary: Title sucks, I know. May change soon.  As Clary starts to discover the trouble Jace has gotten into, she wants to help him get out. But how can she when Jace refuses to let her in? Full Summary inside.  Previously titled "Dancing With Danger"
1. Prologue

**Ok so, this was a spur of the moment idea that just popped into my head while I was watching 'It's Complicated' starring Meryl Streep and some other old dude. Don't ask why. I just saw a certain mental image of Jace explaining to Clary the reason for his behavior and begging her to understand. (Understand what?) To be honest, I have no idea where this story is going. I know what i want to happen but I don't know how to get there. I decided to post this up first as a prologue, to see how much of a reaction I get from it. So, i'll try to summarize it as best as I can. **

**Summary: A month into their relationship, Clary finds herself lost and confused as Jace breaks up with her out of the blue. She'd be somewhat fine with it, if she didn't know he was hiding something. For a while now, she's been noticing the way he glances out the window every so often. How he wears jackets two sizes too big to cover up whatever he is hiding underneath. How often he goes out and doesn't return until late at night, almost morning, worn out and tired. He's grown quiet and distant, hardly speaking to her, let alone looking at her. And when he breaks up with her, she notices how he begs, how desperate he is to leave her. As Clary slowly starts to discover the kind of situation Jace has gotten into, she realizes that it's way beyond her ability to help him. She wants to help him. But how can she when Jace refuses to let her in? (All characters are human) **

**Ugh, okay. This summary sucks, go ahead and say it. But it only sucks because I myself have no idea what's going on in my little messed up head. **

* * *

Clary woke up with a start, her mind still fuzzy from sleep. She felt a warm breath caressing her ear and turned her head slightly, only to discover the nose of a boy lying next to her, his closed eyes still slightly red and puffy, his soft, warm mouth free from all stress. As she watched him, she noticed how his blonde bed head hair, mussed from last nights actions, flowed around him like a halo.

The bed sheet had fallen down around their feet, giving Clary a good view of his bare chest. He had a nice golden tan layering his body, as well as blonde hairs so fine, it made him look like he had no hair at all. Tentatively, she ran a hand down his chest, tracing the small, uneven patterns across his skin.

Scars.

So many scars peppered across his perfect tanned skin.

These imperfections made up the only man she had ever loved more than a family member.

Jace.

Her Jace.

People, girls mostly, said he looked like a god of some kind. Clary used to think that as well, up until this moment. God didn't even come close to how he looked right now. With his face so calm, so relaxed, all the anger drained gone, he looked like an angel.

A noise filtered in through the cracked door of Clary's bedroom, breaking through her day dreaming reverie. Puzzled, she glanced at the clock on her bedside table which reads 6:42AM. Slowly, she raises herself up to a sitting position, gently removing Jace's arm from around her waist.

As soon as her bare feet touch the cold hard tile floors of her room, a shiver raced up her spine, causing goose bumps to rise out on the skin of her arms. The black over sized t-shirt she wears only goes down to mid-thigh, and it's thin, it also smells like Jace. Sunshine, sweat, and metal.

The sound comes again, harder; it's a sound that Clary recognizes almost instantly.

_'Who the hell is knocking on my door at 6 o'clock in the morning?'_

The cold draft of the morning air seeps in through the crack on the bottom of the front door. Through the light that filters in, Clary can see the shadow of two legs smeared across the fake wooden floorboards.

A third knock on wood. This one louder and more insistent than the last two, as if the unknown person on the other side of it is using his or her fist to hit the door.

Clary stops in front of the door, a sudden feeling of unease coursing through her. She has no explanation other than instinct that tells her not to open the door, to crawl back in her warm bed with Jace and leave the person standing outside. She doesn't understand it at all, she has no past relations with people of any kind belonging to the wrong group, other than Jace that is. But she can't ignore that feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that is warning her against the dangers that lie ahead. That is telling her to be cautious, to be wary.

But when has she ever listened?

Taking one more step, she reaches out and wraps her hand around the doorknob, the sweat on her palm making it difficult to turn it. When the door swings fully open, exposing the figure standing behind it, Clary can do nothing but stop and stare. Her feet are frozen to the ground and it feels as if all the air has left her lungs, making it difficult to breathe.

There's a man standing outside her apartment.

There was a man with a gun.

There was a gunshot.

Then there was blackness.

* * *

**Yay? Nay? Should I continure or shouldn't I? Have I gotten your attention enough to leave a review? **

**The next chapter, if i decide to write one depending on how much attention the prologue gets, will not be coming as soon as I hoped. School is starting soon and I might be a litle crowded with *gulp* homework.**

**So *bites nails nervously* Review please? The decision of the next chapter is solely based on the lovely people who have taken the time to read this and have reviewed honestly.**

**Constructive critisizm is highly welcomed. =D**


	2. Chapter 1

_And here it is my friends! The long awaited chapter of Dancing With Danger! (god, I hate that title) I just want to take a moment to say thank you for all those who reviewed, favorited, and added this story to their 'Story Alerts' you have no idea how that makes me feel *sniff*_

_Ok, I'll shut up now so you can read the story. I'll write the rest of my A/N at the bottom._

_P.S.- I forgot to put a disclaimer up on the prologue, but I'm putting one up now. Just ONE for the whole story. Because I guarantee I will forget to put one up every time I upload a new chapter._

_(P.S. - The italisized paragraphs is a flashback.)_

****WARNING** excessive use of the "F" word in here. Just in case none of you take too kindly to swear words.**

**Disclaimer: All rights of The Mortal Instruments belong to Cassandra Clare. I am nobody compared to her. I just get to play with her characters *cough* Jace *cough* However, the plot belongs to me.**

_And now. . . *bows down and holds arm out*_

* * *

The clock ticked mercilessly as Clary paced the spot in front of the living room window. Every once in a while she would pull back the curtain for a quick look outside to see if the familiar '67 mustang was pulling in. And every time Clary looked, the same disappointment and worry she had been feeling for the past six hours would only rise higher, inching closer to hysteria.

Okay so, maybe the ticking sounds were all in her head, or maybe the sounds were the thump of her own heart as it beat against her chest - because she didn't own a clock in her apartment except for her wristwatch. And her cell phone doesn't count. Either way, he still wasn't back yet, he hasn't called, he hasn't returned.

_'Maybe he won't come back. Maybe he's finally done with me.'_

Clary pushed back the sudden lump that had landed in her throat at the thought.

Of course he was coming back, he said he would, didn't he? He had promised.

_'And promises are meant to be broken.'_

Shit. The pain came again, stronger. She swallowed countless times until her mouth had gone dry. With another twitch of her wrist, she pulled back the faded blue bed sheet that has been serving as a make-shift curtain for weeks. She was pathetically wishing, pathetically hoping, that if she kept thinking about him, his car would suddenly appear.

Another wave of disappointment coursed through her as she was met with the same still life picture of the same empty parking lot with the same flickering streetlamp hanging off in one corner. No flashing headlights. No black rusty mustang. No Jace. She let the curtain go with a sigh and it swung into place, causing specks of lint to dance around in midair and settle.

Clary remembered how only hours earlier, his presence filled the small one-bedroom apartment. At that time, Clary had wanted Jace to leave. He had done nothing but walk the same steps in front of the window - as she was doing now - muttering about 'the deal' and 'the package' and 'where is he', finally ending with his venomous words 'damn son of a bitch better not bail on me now, or I'll fucking kill him.'

In those moments, Clary wanted nothing more than to kick him out of the apartment_._ He scared her when he talked like that. She was afraid that he'd suddenly lash out and break the window with his bare hands. She knew the fear was illogical but it seemed eerily possible with the new muscular biceps he had claimed in the past month.

.x.X.x.

_She watched him as he turned this way and that, obviously restless and obviously not willing to talk about it. Dressed in all black with his favorite black leather jacket - the material now faded and soft from countless uses - zipped up to his neck, his blonde hair the only thing that reminded her he was still Jace. The same man he had been since high school. The same loving, caring, pain in the ass Jace she loved so much. He was still as beautiful and intimidating as he was back then. And still as dangerous. If beauty could be dangerous._

_She finally broke down and asked him what he was going on about, which proved to be a big mistake. Jace immediately lashed out at her, fury igniting the shadows in his eyes, "What's my business is my own. It'd be wise if you kept your mouth shut, Clarissa, and stay out of it. I don't need you trampling in and messing everything up."_

_She gasped and took a step back, too shocked to speak. Jace never calls her Clarissa. Nor has he used that kind of tone with her, no matter how angry he has gotten in the past. _

_It was just a simple question; it's not as if she asked him to give her the square root of pi. Then why was there a hint of panic laced into his words?_

_Seeing the hurt look in Clary's eyes, Jace immediately regretted ever opening his mouth. But before he could utter an apology, a knock erupted from the door and Jace sighed with visible relief; he didn't believe the guy would actually show._

_As Jace moved to open the door, Clary searched for a way to stall, if only for a couple seconds. She doesn't want Jace to leave on a bad note, it'll guilt her the entire time he's gone._

_"Jace, are you-" _'are you coming back?' _realizing how pathetic the question sounded, Clary immediately changed course, "When are you coming back?"_

_Jace stopped just before he touched the doorknob, and turned to look at her. The blank look in his eyes immediately softened as he took in her distressed expression. _

_"Don't worry Clary; I'll be home before you know it. I promise. You won't even have the chance to miss me." And with that, he pressed a soft, chaste kiss to her lips before gently pushing her to the bedroom, "Now go change into your pajamas or something, it's getting cold."_

_Clary did as she was told but before she turned away from him, she caught the apathetic look that returned into his eyes. It was a look she had grown use to in the past month, and it still pained her to see it now. _

_Jace waited as Clary walked to the bedroom and shut the door gently, looking at her posture - her shoulders slumped in defeat, the tension lying in her back - he wished so much that he could take her in his arms and keep her there, safe in his warm embrace. But he couldn't. He knew he couldn't; that didn't stop him from wishing._

_This was his life now; this is what he had to do to keep her away from harm, even if it meant hurting them both in the process._

_Sighing in defeat, he turned to face the fake wooden door and opened it, knowing who and what lay beyond. Sure enough, there was a man standing there, dressed like Jace in all black with a leather jacket zipped up all the way, hiding what lay underneath. Shortly blinded by the rays of the sun glinting off several car windows, it took Jace a couple of seconds to fully view his expected guest._

_The man was the same height as Jace, if not a couple inches taller. His eyes were bloodshot, but wide and alert. The rough, calloused hands that lay at his side only showed how much he'd been through in the past six years he'd been involved. The skin on his bones looked tired and worn, pale from lack of sun. Dark stubble outlined his chin and cheeks, just barely starting to form on his neck. His black hair looked unwashed and greasy, and his lingering odor made Jace want to vomit. But he had to pull himself together. If not for his sake, then for Clary's own protection. _

_"Who were you talking to in there? I heard voices." The man's deep voice rumbled not so quietly in the calm air of the afternoon._

_"It was the T.V., Sebastian. Now come on before we're late." Jace tried to push past him, but Sebastian held him in place with an arm to Jace's chest._

_"Don't lie to me, Lightwood. I know what I heard. It was you and some other chick. Now tell me who it was or-"_

_"Or you'll what? Gut me like a fish? Skin me? Cut off my dick and hang it on the wall?" Jace challenged him. He could not let Sebastian figure out there was a girl in the apartment. As far as the guys knew, Jace was a single manwhore who liked nothing but taking the pleasure in women. If they ever found out about Clary, all he worked for would be useless._

_Sebastian, fed up with Jace's cockiness, fisted both hands in his leather jacket and pushed him against the outside wall, "Stop fucking around, Lightwood. Who's in the apartment?"_

_"I told you, I was watching T.V., what's so fucking hard to believe about that?"_

_"Because I heard you talking. If it were the T.V., you wouldn't be talking. Last chance. Who's. Inside. The. Apartment." At this, Sebastian pulled out the pistol hiding in the waistband of his jeans, under the jacket, and held it to Jace's head. _

_"Nothing. No one. If you don't believe me you can go and search the apartment cupboard to cupboard, but when _he _finds out we're late because of your insecurities, we'll both be dead," Jace warned him, knowing that his words ring true. He also knows that because of his 'job', Sebastian wouldn't dare to take the extra couple of minutes to inspect his apartment. The boss is serious about his work. _

_"Fine, dammit. But if I ever find out that there was someone in there, I'll hunt you down and gut you like the worthless piece of shit you are. Then, I'll feed you to my dogs. How does that sound?" Sebastian smiled menacingly._

_"I think that sounds quite fair. If that ever does happen, ask your dogs how I tasted. It'd be such a waste of my life to know that I don't taste delicious. Just make sure you don't eat me, I don't think you need the extra pounds," Jace reached out and patted Sebastian's slightly extended beer belly._

_Sebastian scowled and lowered the gun from the blonde mans head, "Has anyone ever told you that you have a messed up mind?"_

_"I've been told that I'm hot and sexy. And I have the size of an anaconda hanging between my legs Not to mention great at sex, but that's not the sort of information you're looking for, is it?"_

_"Sometimes I wonder Lightwood, how did the boss ever get you to do his dirty work? You're nothing but an insensitive ass."_

_"It's flattering to know you're thinking about my ass."_

_Sebastian groaned, "Just shut up and lets get goin' all ready."_

_The two men left after that, Jace shutting the door behind him quietly, his eyes searching for anything out of place. What he didn't know was that a certain red head was standing on the other side of the bedroom door, her ear to the wall, able to hear every word exchanged. She stayed in that same position until she heard the loud roar of the engine start, and the protest of abused gears as it left the parking lot._

_.x.X.x._

_"Nothing. No one." _

Is that what Clary was to him now? No one? And who was that guy Jace was talking to? A friend? Certainly not. Friends didn't threaten each other, and his voice was much too serious to be joking. What was Jace doing, bringing people like him, inviting them to her apartment, for what? To hang out? Not drugs. Jace wasn't into drugs. The ghastly voices inside Clary's head taunted her with their whispers of doubt.

Or was he? With the recent changes to his body, not all of them good, she wouldn't be surprised if he had gotten himself mixed into situations like that. Though she could certainly hope not.

Either way, she was going to talk to Jace about that. This was her apartment, he was just staying here. And if he wanted to continue living with her, he was going to have to follow some rules. First, no more. . . Creepy guys. Second, well, she'd have to figure the rest out.

Clary had been so enthralled in her own thoughts, she didn't hear the rattle of keys outside her apartment until the muttered curses of Jace drifted inside as he tried to figure out which key fit into the right keyhole. The knob turned left and right, the familiar voice on the other side of it letting out another string of profanities as the door swung open, letting in a gust of frigid air. The wind carried with it the stench of stale beer, cigarettes and over sprayed mans' cologne. The combination of the three made Clary's nose wrinkle in disgust, almost causing her to gag; the aroma of rotten eggs would've been more welcome.

When Jace was fully inside of the apartment, door closed and locked, he rubbed the backs of his hands on his eyes and ran a slightly trembling palm through his hair. In his mind, the only things he wanted to do right now was take a shower and collapse into the warm, soft bed he shared with Clary. But when he spotted the short green-eyed girl standing in front of him - arms crossed tightly across her chest, piercing emerald eyes staring straight through him - Jace knew, without a doubt, that it'd take a lot more than a simple smile and a kiss for him to get his wish.

"What happened to 'I'll be home before you know it?" Clary's ice cold voice cut through the uncomfortable silence that followed Jace's arrival.

Jace, trying to act nonchalant even though her hard tone pierced him, merely responded with a slight twitch of his shoulders, "Since when do I have a curfew?"

"Damn it Jace, for once in your life, can you at least try and act serious?"

"Clary, look. I'm sweaty, I'm tired, I smell like I drank a whole bar - or at least half of it," He lifted up one arm and smelled, "wait no, all of it."

"Oh no, you are not going to give me the whole 'I'm tired' excuse. If you were tired, you would've been here two hours earlier. Not stumbling in the apartment at," she stopped and squinted at her small wristwatch, "eleven oh five."

"Clary-" he started, but was cut off by the fiery red head's aggravated voice.

"And that's another thing. Where the hell have you been the past six hours? I understand if, maybe, you were going off to visit Isabelle since she lives on the other side of town. Or maybe if you were going to take a walk. But, even then, what kind of walk takes six hours?" she ranted, her worry and disappointment turning to anger as she let out her emotions.

"A long one?" Jace suggested.

Clary threw her hands up in the air, letting them float down carelessly and smack the sides of her legs with an audible slap, "You're not answering any of my questions, Jace."

"What is this, an interrogation session? Do you work for the FBI now? Or is it that time of the month again?"

"Fine," Clary snapped, her patience thinning, "don't tell me where you were, I don't care. Whether you were at a bar or a strip club is none of my business," oh, but it is her business, the small sting in her heart confirms it, "But what is my business are the people arriving on my doorstep. Which leads me to ask, who was that man that came over earlier today?"

"Clary-"

"And don't give me some bullshit answer about how he was 'nobody.' As far as I'm concerned, a nobody wouldn't threaten a somebody."

That brought Jace up short. How did she know that Sebastian had threatened him? Surely they weren't talking _that_ loud?

"He's just a guy that needed some help, so I offered," lame excuse, but it's the best he could do on such a short notice. And it wasn't exactly a lie. . .

"Where did you meet him?" another question fired.

"Out on the streets," again, not a total lie.

"Why was he here?"

Christ, would her list of never ending questions, well, _end_?

"I just answered that, Clary," Jace sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face, struggling to keep his voice calm when all he really wanted to do was yell.

"You said he was a guy that needed help, I get that. You wanted to help him, for some strange reason. But what I don't get is why you had him come here, to my apartment, where I live. He didn't exactly sound like good company and who's to say that he won't come back and try to murder me?" Really, Clary was just pulling at straws now. Maybe he wouldn't try to murder her, no, but he did sound really dangerous. Threatening. Should she get an alarm system? All that stood in the way of an intruder was a 5 inch. fake wooden door and a door chain lock. Would that be enough to hold a guy with, lets say, a gun?

"Clary," Jace let out an exasperated sound; a tired chuckle, "I can honestly say he isn't going to murder you," not exactly true, "he just needed some money, that's all," liar, liar, pants on fire, "he got mixed up with some bad people. In the wrong place at the wrong time, ya know?" lies. So many lies. When would it end? He couldn't look at her while lying to her face, she would notice immediately.

"How much money did you give him?"

"Jesus, Clary! What are you, my mother?"

"If that were true, then you've been kissing your parent for the past month."

Jace shuddered visibly, "I don't think I can ever look at you the same way."

"I don't think I can look at you at all."

His golden irises snapped onto her green ones instantly, "What do you mean?"

"You're lying to me, Jace!" her temper broke, "I can see it! You won't look at me and you keep fidgeting with your hands!"

Jace's hands fell limply to his sides where he resisted the urge to crack his knuckles. Damn it, even when he wasn't looking directly at her, she could still tell. Of course she could. Ever since high school, Clary was always able to notice whenever he even so much as thought of a false statement.

"Jace," she started again, her voice calming down a bit, "Look, I really don't want to fight, not right now. I'm tired too and all I really want is to go to bed. But, I'm warning you," Clary's voice started to rise again, "if he ever comes back here again, or any other street ridden hooligan that comes arriving at my door, you're out, understand? I'm sorry if I sound a little harsh, but I will not be allowing you to live here if that's the sort of attraction you're going to bring."

Now that she had actually said it out loud, it sounded a lot more different than inside of her head. Out in the open, with the threat rolling off her tongue, she sounded like a bitch. She said she was sorry though, does that make it. . . Less harsh?

Jace bit the inside of his cheek, letting the full force of her words process in his brain, "Fair enough, I'll agree to that if you agree to one of my terms."

Clary nodded slowly, wondering what sort of negotiation was up his sleeve.

"Privacy," he said, "I'll make sure Sebastian doesn't come by anymore if you give me my privacy."

Clary opened her mouth to protest that she did give him privacy when he cut her off.

"I'm talking about stuff like tonight. When I go out and with whom I choose to go out with. I'd like it if you didn't question me on my actions."

A big gust of air escaped from her throat as she thought long and hard about his compromise. On one hand, she valued privacy among anything else. The saying, 'some secrets are meant to be kept' applied to Clary in every which way. And she could understand if Jace wanted to shade a little bit of his life with her. But when it came to him going out at numerous times of the day, she didn't know what to think. What if he was going out with another girl? Is that why he didn't want her to ask so many questions? Because she'd figure out what a lying, cheating, bastard he was?

Jace saw the raging conflict happening in her eyes and opened his mouth to speak when he was interrupted by a quiet spoken, "Okay."

His eyes widened the smallest bit. He really didn't believe that she would say yes. He expected a fight, yelling, anger, _something. _The fact that she didn't put up an ounce of fight made his heart clench in the most uncomfortable way.

What was happening to her? Where had the old Clary gone? The one who loved to argue, the one with shining emerald eyes? He was so caught up in trying to keep her safe, he didn't actually realize what his time away from her had done. And now, as he examined her thoroughly, he noticed the smallest changes, yet the most noticeable ones.

Her skin had paled even more slightly than her natural color, her red hair still stuck out like a sore thumb, but even the fiery tone to it had washed out, even her eyes looked different. They had a distant look to them, as if her body was here, but her mind wasn't.

_'What's happening to her?'_

x.X.x

By the time Jace gets out of the shower, he realizes that all the lights are out except for the glow emanating from the bathroom. The door to the bedroom is closed and as his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, he spies familiar red curls splayed out on the white pillowcase in bed. Clary's face is turned towards him, her eyes closed and her breathing calm and deep. The black fluffed down comforter is pulled up to her chin, softly outlining the shape of her small body. Jace stares at her, wishing so much that things could go back to the way they used to be before he met the boss, before his life was complicated, back when everything was simple.

He sighs as the heavy weight he's grown so used to settles upon his chest, caging his heart in tight binds, causing him to close his eyes and take a deep breath before he does something really stupid. Like taking out his 92F pistol lying in the inside pocket of his leather jacket and covering the apartment walls in bullet holes. Yeah, that would go over so well with Clary.

Teeth brushed and pajamas on, Jace clicks off the light switch behind where the damp towel hangs on the rack, he walks forward by memory, relying on the gentle glow of the moonlight outlining the shapes of objects around the room to help guide his way. When his knees bump the edge of the bed, making it move slightly, he pauses his actions long enough to hear the still steady breathing coming off the other side of the bed. Good, he didn't wake her up.

Unable to help himself once he's lying in bed next to Clary, one hand reaches out and hesitantly strokes the soft skin of her cheek that is left uncovered. When she doesn't move under his touch, his confidence grows until he is laying directly on his right side facing her. His palm cups one side of her face for a moment before his hand moves downward, brushing the bare skin at the base of her neck, her shoulder, and her arm. Reveling in how soft her skin is in comparison to his rough, calloused hands, he grabs her small hand in his and laces their fingers together. He wants nothing more than to lean down and press his lips to hers; it's been a long time since they've had an intimate moment, and Jace is starting to miss it.

_'Screw it,' _he thinks, and kisses her softly, just the barest brush of his lips against hers.

Finally, Clary shifts in bed, instead of moving away from Jace - as he expects her to do - she moves closer to the point where her forehead is touching his own. Her mouth is slightly open and her warm breath is flowing over his face in gentle strokes. He has to stop and collect himself for a moment - because he just wants to kiss her until she moans - before his arm snakes around her waist, pulling her even closer.

Sleep be damned, Jace begins to pepper her face with small kisses starting at her temple, down to her jaw, brushing her long red hair aside so he can get better access to her collarbone. Clary starts to wake, little by little, twining her legs with Jace's, opening her eyes just the slightest bit to see Jace awake and staring at her. Instead of that making her feel nervous, she feels guarded somehow, protected. As if he's her guardian angel.

Even though she's half asleep, Clary can't ignore the slow fire building up in the pit of her stomach; she wants to kiss him.

And so she does.

The kiss is slow at first, hesitant, both of them are unsure of where to go from here, how far to take it, how much they want from it. After weeks of little to no contact, they are both indecisive of what they want. Gradually, instinct starts to take over and the kiss becomes stronger, more natural. Jace smoothes his hand over Clary's soft red curls, his fingers coming to rest on her back, urging her closer. Deciding to take it a step further, he places a hand on either side of Clary's head, his body shifting until he's hovering over her small frame. Her hands are in his hair, pulling and tugging, earning a groan from Jace. His lips are all over her skin, covering every inch with his burning, passionate kisses. They leave a trail down to her collarbone, straining at the edge of her cotton camisole.

It's at this point that Clary realizes what's happening.

"Jace, get off of me."

All in one moment, the sexual tension is gone, replaced by silence as cold as ice. Jace pulls back far enough to look at her, the lust in his eyes instantly fading to confusion and anger.

"What?" his voice is hard.

"You heard me, I said get off," Clary pushed at his chest, forcing him to collapse onto the cold bed sheets beside her. He stares at her, his once golden eyes now black with anger.

"What the hell Clary?" he all but shouts at her, the veins in his neck standing out. What's her problem? Why lead him on if she's just going to stop it out of nowhere?

A second later, his questions are answered.

"No, Jace, no. You can't do this to me. You can't ignore me for weeks and then all of a sudden start seducing me while I'm halfway to sleep. That's not how relationships are supposed to work."

She understands now. She can't kiss him when she wants to, but he can make out with her at 12 o'clock in the morning? Is that all she is to him now? Some slut that he thinks he can neglect for weeks and then, for some miraculous reason, he starts to take interest again? No, that's not okay. Clary refuses to be used like some tool.

"Clary, I'm not-" he starts to say _'I'm not ignoring you_.' but the words never leave his mouth because Clary cuts him off.

"Yes you are, Jace. Don't tell me you're not. You think you can ignore me whenever you want and then kiss me whenever. You. Want? Well you have another thing coming," as she talks, she gets off the bed, grabs a pillow and a heavy cotton blanket laying at the foot of their bed, "I am not a toy, Jace! I'm not something you can use for a day and then toss aside! And maybe once you get that through your head, we can have a civilized conversation. But as of right now, I can't stand to look at you."

And with those final words, she stomps to the bedroom door, flings it open, and then slams it shut so hard, the picture frames on the wall shake.

The couch isn't as comfortable as the bed, but she refuses to sleep in the same room with someone who thinks he gets to can use her whenever he pleases.

Clary stands at the foot of the short putrid green couch thinking that the floor would be more comfortable than that dusty old abomination. She has no choice; if she sleeps on the floor, she's bound to wake up sore. Sighing, she throws the pillow down on the armrest, and throws herself on top of it. The groan that escapes her mouth is one of pain as her body hits the hard cushions. Oh yeah, it's going to be a long night.

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And there it is, folks! Chapter one of Dancing With Danger.

I just want to apologize for making you all wait this long. Believe it or not but this chapter took me 3 weeks to write. It's just so hard. I have no idea what's going to happen. I want to add a twist to the story, to make it less predictable. *sigh* I hate to say it, my lovelies, but it's gonna take about another 3-4 weeks for the next chapter. I tried coming up with some sort of updating schedule so you can have a regular wait for each chapter. But, it's just so. . . Hard! *grabs hair and pulls* and for that, I am very, very sorry. And as you may have noticed, I inserted a line from The Mortal Instruments in here. One of my favorites. *grins* I can't help it. I love Jace's lines. I may add some more along the way also. I tried to add some fluff a bit there at the end. I'm not an expert at it, but I tried my best. I had to put some kissy kissy scenes because this story, for a while, is going to be very, very. . . tense. Especially between Jace and Clary.

Ok so, maybe there isn't 'excessive' use of the "F" word as I warned up there *points* but still, it's a lot more than I would usually use. And there may be some chapters with a lot of cussing.

I hope the story isn't confusing so far. I had my sister preread and edit this maybe 2 or 3 times to make sure some sentences weren't crap. Apparently, there is such a thing as being too descriptive. Who woulda known? I love being descriptive. I like to paint an image in readers' minds as they read. I don't like using visuals (pictures) because they take away from how one person might see something. It might ruin their personal image. I dunno, I'm weird that way. But maybe, if I really, really, want you to see something, I'll post a link to a picture up somewhere.

I want to say thank you to my wonderful sister, shadow angel942, for rereading this story countless times and for becoming my unofficial beta! She helped me so much. Why don't you guys go give her a hug? She had faith in me when day after day, I kept telling her _'I'm almost done, just a couple more sentences. I'm almost done.' _give her a big hug and smooches! Oh bacon! She loves bacon!

And also, I tried to make this chapter as long as possible so I can reach the maximum of 6,000 words so I can become a beta. I mention in my profile that I have a lot of stories going on in my head and sometimes I suffer from writers block, which happens a lot. But, I've had my fair share of editing my friends' stories when they need me to. So, I really want to become a beta.

And also, as I've said before countless times to my sister, I hate the title of my story. Usually, I'm good at titles but for some strange reason, I can't come up with one that fits. *sigh* so if you guys have any ideas or recommendations, I'd be as happy as a toddler opening presents during Christmas at midnight , if you would share with me your ideas.

Rayianne =D


	3. Chapter 2

***shrugs* I lied, so sue me. It seems I WILL be continuing this after all.**

**A special thanks to , my wonderful beta!**

**Disclaimer: Black hair with blue highlights, brown eyes, 5'2, do I look like Cassandra Clare? Leave me alone so I can go cry in my emo corner. XP**

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When Jace first moved in with Clary in the one bedroom apartment, the first thing he would do every morning is reach over to Clary's side of the bed and find her warm body curled up in his direction. He would pull her close and tuck her head directly under his chin, and wrap his arms tightly around her small figure.

This morning when Jace reached over to the opposite side of the bed, he was met with a cold, empty space. It was reflex, how his arm automatically reached out for her everyday, instinct almost.

The sunlight rays beamed in softly through the bed sheet curtains, outlining small specks of dust and lint that danced in the air. Jace let his arm fall limply onto the bed and threw the other over his eyes, shutting out any light. Letting his body sink into the king sized mattress, Jace tried to forget about his argument with Clary last night. If it even counts as an argument; she didn't even let him say a word, never gave him a chance to tell his side, his reasons. Of course, what is there to tell her? He can't tell her the cause of his actions without giving her a little insight to what he has to endure everyday. And he can't do that. Ever.

After minutes of relaxing, Jace slowly becomes aware of a muffled sound coming from the other side of the bedroom door. He listens for a moment, trying to distinguish the noise, until he figures out what it is.

Clary.

Her voice is quiet, her tone sounding small and desperate, even muffled through the bedroom door Jace can make out that much. He can't make out most of what she's saying, but by the way she talks, pauses, and talks again after a brief silence, he can only guess she's on the phone. Throwing back the thick sheet that lay over his body, Jace silently sits up from his comfortable position and tip toes to the door, not wanting Clary to know he's awake.

When he opens the door, he peaks his head out to see exactly where Clary is. From his point of view he can see the blanket and pillow she took from the bed yesterday sitting on the armrest of the couch. But no Clary.

Stepping out of the room completely, he checks the couch again to make sure she isn't laying down on it. Nope, not there. As he walks quietly towards the small kitchen, her voice grows louder and he knows for a fact that she's in there.

When he reaches the kitchen entrance, he spots Clary sitting down in a wooden chair at the small orange table, her hand wrapped around a coffee mug that says "I Haven't Had My Coffee Yet. Don't Make Me Kill You." with a picture of a cheerful smiling blonde women holding a cup of coffee. He had given her that mug two weeks ago when they ran out of coffee beans and Clary was being particularly snappy without her 'drug'. He thought it fit her personality well.

"Isabelle, no, it's not like that-" Clary started to say but stops when Isabelle interrupts her. Jace watches her silently, noticing how stiff her arm seems when she moves to brush her red hair away from her face.

"I don't know. He doesn't tell me anything anymore, he's just so-" from where Jace stands, he can hear the barely-there voice of Isabelle on the other side of the line, speaking rapidly; but he can't make out the words.

"You think I haven't thought about that, Isabelle? Do you honestly think that thought has never crossed my mind? Especially with the way he's been acting lately?"

Thought about what? What is she thinking about?

"I honestly don't know what to feel anymore. The first time I thought he was sneaking around with someone else I was mad and a little hurt but now. . ." Clary sighs and takes a sip before answering; "now I don't know what to feel."

Shocked, Jace takes an involuntary step back, as if her words had punched him. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest, an unknown feeling washing over him. He bumps into the wall, his elbow brushing against one of the pictures hanging there. The photo rocks to the side, dangling uselessly on the edge of the nail. It falls and lands face down, the glass breaking as small pieces scatter around his bare feet, shattering the quietness that hung in the room.

From the chair in the kitchen, Clary jumps in her seat and turns around, her green eyes wide with surprise, her perfect plush mouth open in an 'o' , fiery red curls that shape around her head are tangled and messy, flowing in front of her face. The phone she holds in her hand buzzes alive with the never ending stream of words coming from the other side of the line; the only sound in the eerie silence. They stare at each other like that, neither one daring to move until Isabelle's insistent chatter becomes too much.

Clary raises the phone back to her ear, not hearing a word that's being said, and interrupts Isabelle in the middle of her sentence, "Hey, Iz, I'll - um - I have to call you back." And then she hung up, not stopping to say goodbye. The phone clattered on the table, the sound echoing off the walls and causing Clary to break her gaze with Jace. Rising from the table, she grabbed her coffee mug - still halfway full - and dumped it in the sink. She couldn't stand to look at Jace. Not now. Not after last night.

She was so used to being in control with everything, but with Jace and this new situation, she had no idea what she was doing.

"Breakfast is in the microwave," she says stiffly, "it's still warm. There's still some coffee left, I figured you would want some when you woke up." That was a lie. Jace never drank coffee and she knew that, "I'm going out with Simon today; says he needs to go buy another World Of Warcraft t-shirt since Isabelle burned his other one."

Jace doesn't say anything, just stands there staring at the back of her head, her tense shoulders, and back to her wild knot of red hair. Even when she turns around to look at him, her mouth pulled down at the sides and purple shadows under her eyes, he doesn't move. A second passes filled with tense silence and as their gazes connect, Jace tries to mask his face in a look of indifference, acting as if he hadn't heard their conversation, or at least Clary's half of it.

Clary looks away first, her eyes lighting over with the first shine of tears. Her throat constricts with the sobs she tries to keep back. She clears her throat a few times before finally speaking, "I need to take a shower." She says softly, ignoring the way her voice cracks.

Jace nods and steps aside, watching as she moves past him, all the while his heart gives a painful lurch in his chest with every breath he takes.

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"Dammit, Verlac! What the hell did you do?" Jace shouts while he presses his hand to the wound on Sebastian's leg. "You were just supposed to give him the drugs, get the money, and get the fuck out of there. What the hell happened?"

"Nothing, man! I gave the fucker his Jack-up and he shot me! Son of a bitch, Wayland! Don't press so damn hard!" Sebastian growls out from between clenched teeth.

His blood is pooling on the floor of the alley, the stench of blood masking the aroma of cat piss and bodily fluids. Jace, kneeling on the ground beside Sebastian, curses under his breath and reaches into his pocket with one hand, pulling out a metallic silver phone. His other hand is drenched with blood, and he applies more pressure to Sebastian's wound, while dialing the number.

"Hold still, Verlac! You dumb ass, I'm supposed to press on it harder, I've got to stop the blood."

"It hurts," Sebastian whimpers pathetically. His eyes are glazed over with the effects of cocaine, bloodshot.

"At least it means you're still alive," Jace mumbles, pressing the phone into one ear. "Get someone over here, now," he says as soon as the line picks up, "We're at the corner of the drop off. Sebastian was shot. Fucking bastard doesn't know how to take a deal. Hurry up before he bleeds to death." He hangs up, not giving whoever was on the other line a chance to speak. He glances down when he feels his knees start to get wet and notices the pool of blood growing bigger. "Shit." He murmurs, whipping off his shirt and tying it around Sebastian's leg.

He's just knotted it when he hears the unmistakable wail of police sirens in the distance.

" Fuck," Sebastian says tiredly. Jace nods silently.

"Fuck is right," he says, pulling out his .40 caliber pistol from his holster.

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**Not much to explain, I don't think. I hope I left you guys wondering what the hell is going to happen next. Aren't cliffy's a bitch? PM me for any questions whatsoever.**


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